


starless sky

by brainyisalwayssexy



Series: Remadora in Film Series [3]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Anyways, Canon - Movie, F/M, PWP, after the battle of the potters, as it is so called, bitch idk, loving rough sex?, takes place during deathly hallows 1
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-29
Updated: 2020-12-29
Packaged: 2021-03-10 22:15:58
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,986
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28414509
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/brainyisalwayssexy/pseuds/brainyisalwayssexy
Summary: After the disastrous Battle of the Potters, Remus pulls his wife aside for some alone time. Movie canon. Oneshot. PWP, but my dubious version of PWP, so with some minor added plot I guess.Can be read as a companion piece to'first night of the cycle'.
Relationships: Remus Lupin/Nymphadora Tonks
Series: Remadora in Film Series [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2043574
Comments: 17
Kudos: 30





	starless sky

**Author's Note:**

> A/N: I was horny and on my period when I first wrote this. #noshame. Unbeta-ed because I wanna give my friend @your-girl-is-lovely a break from my embarrassing heathen ways.
> 
> I’m not sure if this hovers gently on the Explicit side. Maybe? Probably not, since I’m secretly a prude? Let me know in the comments idk.
> 
> Opens up at The Burrow, during DH1.

Remus has scarcely set a bleeding George Weasley down before he turns onto Harry. Grabs him and roughly drags him across the room, ignoring Ginny and Molly’s shouts of surprise.

He’s got his former pupil -- well, _maybe_ it's him, he’s about to check for just that -- backed up against the wall, wand against his neck.

They've been betrayed tonight, that much is clear. And Remus has no patience for traitors. Not any longer.

He can't trust his eyes alone. So he hisses out the security question:

“What creature sat in the corner the very first time Harry Potter visited my office?”

“Are you _mad?”_ the boy snaps, looking more affronted than anything else.

And maybe there's something about the manner in which he says it, but Remus is suddenly infuriated. Finds himself overtaken by a strange, acute desire to strangle him.

(It reminds him, he realizes, of a traitor he knew long ago.

Someone else they'd all been _fools_ to trust.)

So he asks, once again and far less politely, this time:

  
  


#  **_“WHAT CREATURE?!?!”_ **

  
  


" _A_ \-- a grindylow!" he shouts back, looking terrified.

It's the right answer, of course. Thank Merlin.

He lets Harry out of the chokehold. Drops his wand, satisfied. For a moment, anyways.

And then the facade drops. Remus feels like he’s about to crumple in on himself, suddenly.

Because now his mind is on one thing and _one thing only_ \--

“She's pregnant,” he gasps out, unable to hold it in.

Harry turns to him, a look of horror making its way across his face.

“ _What?_ ”

“She’s pregnant. Barely six weeks,” he repeats, suddenly unable to form much in the way of coherent sentences. "That's what we were gonna announce back at the house, before Moody barged in." 

Ginny looks stricken, but she bravely tries to intervene --

“Calm down, Professor, _please…_ ”

But he _can't_ be calm. He'd arranged with Moody to give her the shortest route, the cleanest way to the Burrow, and _yet_...

“She’s pregnant, and she’s not back, Ginny, **_where is she_ **?”

Molly cuts in, then, voice calm and assuring.

“She'll be _fine_ , Remus. She's an Auror, and she can handle herself. It'll just be a few minutes now.”

Remus takes a deep breath. Tries to cool the hot boil of his blood.

For his sake and hers, he hopes that Molly's right.

* * *

They sit together in uneasy silence until they hear footsteps outside.

Remus is the first one out, racing ahead before anyone else.

It's Kingsley, arriving alone.

In a flash, he grabs his wand. Finds himself staring down the end of the man's wand, too. _Exactly_ as he'd expected.

They exchange security questions. Find that they're both in the clear.

So it goes back to a waiting game, once more.

* * *

The rest of the search party trickles in, after that. All unharmed, thankfully.

Dora is the last one back. She breaks away from Ron and runs into his arms. He can _feel_ her heart racing against his chest, feel the tension in the way she clutches at his back.

He turns and kisses her cheek, something like reassurance.

And for a moment, it's like nothing and no one else exists.

It's just the two of them holding each other, beneath a dark, starless sky.

* * *

They head in after a bit. Everyone's gathered around a still-resting George when Bill makes the announcement --

“Mad Eye’s dead.”

An uneasy silence fills the room.

"We saw it happen. Mundungus took one look at You-Know-Who and disapparated straight away. The curse knocked Moody off his broom, and the Death Eaters went after his body, a whole horde of them."

Beside him, he feels his wife stiffen.

“I’m sorry,” Bill says to Tonks, whose face looks like a storm clouded over. “There was nothing we could do.”

* * *

No one's in much of a mood for small talk, after that.

They all disperse, slowly and quietly.

Him and her are the last to leave. After she's had a chance to dry her tears for her old mentor, and he's had a few minutes to simply keep her close. It’s all he _can_ do, now.

* * *

Remus holds her hand while leading her all the way up to their lodgings, for tonight. They’re staying in the uppermost guest room in the Burrow, which is six flights of stairs and a _copious_ number of twists and turns.

It would be comedic, if not for the fact that his heart is racing out of his chest, mind swimming with fears and anxieties he suddenly can’t put to rest.

After what feels like ages, they make it up to the room. He pushes through the door, and then his words come out stumbling over themselves.

“Dora, _I_ \-- you didn't come back immediately, and for a second I thought I'd _lost_ you…”

She gives him a half-smile, something somber and bittersweet. There's something low and measured in her next words --

“You _didn’t_ lose me. Not tonight.”

Her words remind him of a flicker of a moment from six months ago, after the attack on The Burrow.

Just as things began to fall apart. The tipping point into chaos.

So much has changed, since then. The woman in front of him is no longer his girlfriend, but his _wife_. They’ve exchanged rings and recited their vows, to love and to cherish until death do they part.

And now she’s carrying his _child_ , a living proof of their love. How they’ve made it, against all odds.

But the odds are stacked against them. Always have been.

After everything that’s happened tonight -- he doesn’t know what to think, anymore. None of it feels real.

He desperately needs a reminder of who _is_.

So Remus hastily points his wand at the door, locking it shut. Casts a quick Silencing Charm over the room.

He needs her, _now_ . Something hot and fast and rough, to show him she's here and real and _safe_ . To calm the way his heart is _still_ beating out of his chest, from fear and worry and love, _yes_ , love. So much he scarcely knows what to do with it. 

She knows him even better than he knows himself. Meets him halfway before he even moves towards her, pressing herself up onto her tiptoes to kiss him. He gently wraps a hand around her throat, revels in the way she groans underneath him. A moment later, her mouth opens beneath him, allowing him to deepen the kiss.

Remus uses his other hand to wrap around her waist and pull her into his body. Pushes them both towards something more _needy_ , more _desperate_.

Before he even realizes it, they’re both stumbling towards the bed, undressing as they go. They go through his blazer and her jacket, all the delicate, annoying little laces on her top and the worn down buttons on his. Then she’s naked and warm beneath him, and it takes all of his self control to remember that he ought to kindly _slow the fuck down._

So he pulls away from her, breathing hard. Drops to his knees in front of where she’s seated, just on the edge of the bed. Lets his hands trace over the slight curve of her belly. 

She's scarcely showing — it’s still too soon, as it were — but he leans down and kisses it tenderly, a motion that is in wild contradiction with the still-feverish heat of his blood, the needy movements from them both. 

He doesn’t have to verbalize the words behind the motion, because it’s clear as day: _I’m going to protect you both._

Her breath slows. She gently lifts one of his hands to her mouth and kisses it, as if to say: _I know._

Then she’s guiding his hand back into her hair and pulls him up to her mouth, kisses him with such heat that it rips a low groan from his throat.

He breaks from her again, because he _needs_ to take care of her first, and at the rate they’re going he _swears_ she’s going to make him forget — 

“What do you want?” he murmurs into her ear. “My hands or my mouth?”

“Your hands.” she whispers, her voice low and heavy with need. “ _Please_.”

So he does exactly that. Presses one, then two long fingers into her. Works her into a steady rhythm, one that leaves her gasping while he busies himself with kissing his way down her neck, down her breasts.

She’s beautiful, so _beautiful_ , when she’s like this. He could never get enough, really. 

It’s only when she finally collapses beneath him, all ragged breaths and sighs, that he remembers just how painfully hard he is. How _badly_ he needs her, right now.

He lifts her onto the bed as gently as he can manage, and she’s scarcely shifted her hips before he adjusts over her, teasing her still-sensitive entrance. 

She groans at the movement and mutters -- 

“Remus, for _fucks’ sake_ , **_please_ **…”

He cuts her off and presses into her fully, going a little bit rougher than he’d intended. She _gasps_ his name in response, arms locking around his neck.

The feeling never gets old. Of feeling her close, so _close._

A privilege he _never_ thought he’d get to have.

And that’s when the realization hits him -- 

He loves her. _God_ , he loves her. 

He’d do _anything_ to protect her.

Lose himself, lose his mind, even, if it meant being able to keep her in his arms like this.

It’s not something he can articulate properly. Not now, anyways. 

So he _shows_ her, the only way he knows how. Starts them into a steady pace, his hips rocking against hers. Focuses on slow, shallow strokes, even though every nerve in his body is _screaming_ otherwise. 

She whimpers against him, something low in her throat, and he realizes, offhandedly, that she’s actually trying to be _quiet_ for him. That suspicion is further confirmed by the way she suddenly breaks away from a kiss, the way she presses herself so her cries are smothered against his shoulder.

“It’s okay,” he murmurs against her cheek. “I _want_ to hear you, sweetheart.”

In a single motion, he throws one of her legs over his shoulder. She cries out loudly at the change in angle, the change in intensity as he finally thrusts into her fully, their bodies coming together. 

The headboard shakes, slams forcefully into the wall.

It’s a rickety old bed. He hopes it'll hold. But he finds that he doesn't care, actually.

 _Nothing_ matters right now, except her.

Remus growls into her throat as she digs her nails into his back. Winds her other knee up and presses into her again, as a retribution, of sorts.

“ _Yes! Yes! Yes!_ ” she gasps out as he pounds into her furiously, each movement sending her into seemingly higher waves of ecstasy. Her cries grow more and more unintelligible as he pushes the two of them forward, his strokes growing harder and stronger and deeper, as they climb the heights of passion.

She lets one hand desperately curl into his hair, to keep him going. Nestles herself in the crook of his neck as he presses into her further.

They’re reaching the end together, and he knows it.

Remus pulls her in for one last, frantic kiss. 

He doesn’t know what the future will bring. So he focuses on everything between them _now_ : the sweat of her skin, the desperation in her kiss, the burning heat of their bodies as they hurtle towards completion. 

It’s as if he can memorize this moment in its entirety. Imprint it into their skin, emblazon it onto their souls. 

The memory of what it’s like to be with his _wife_ . To love her, _exactly_ like this.

So when they need to fight again -- and they will have to, they _always_ will -- they have this. One more memory to hold close, amongst the countless shared memories between them. 

In the end, he hopes that it just might be enough. 


End file.
